unconscious.
‘ Shit,’ said Donaldson on seeing his colleague’s bloody front.
He ripped open the shirt to inspect the wounds. They were very bad. The bullets had gone into the left side of his chest. Brilliant, deadly shooting.
McClure was breathing, but with every breath big bubbles of blood were being blown out of the holes. He wheezed and gurgled as the breath came and went.
‘ Shit,’ Donaldson said again, hopelessly.
McClure’s eyes opened. They were glassy, unfocused.
‘ It’s OK,’ Donaldson said. ‘Just hold on, pal.’
The eyes came to life. He looked up at Donaldson.
‘ Can’t feel a thing,’ he gasped with a twisted smile.
‘ Don’t worry, it’s not bad. You’ll be fine,’ he lied smoothly.
‘ No… no, I won’t be. I should’ve shot him shouldn’t I?’
‘ Yep,’ Donaldson acceded.
‘ Couldn’t do it… couldn’t shoot a man in the back. Not the way we do things round here.’
‘ I know… Now don’t speak… save your energy.’
McClure coughed, spraying Donaldson with a fine mist of blood. Donaldson ran a hand over his face.
When he looked, McClure’s eyes were closed. Donaldson knew he was dead.
Crosby’s face was ashen, his eyes sunk into black, hollow sockets. His breathing was laboured, but for the time being he was stable and surrounded by machines that continuously monitored his condition. He was also awake and quite compos mentis.
FB sat at the bedside. Crosby’s wife stood out in the corridor talking in hushed tones to the Chief Constable.
‘ You saved my life,’ Crosby said quietly through the oxygen mask.
‘ Thank you.’
FB nodded. ‘Training took over. It was nothing.’
‘ As good a cliche as any,’ said Crosby. ‘Now you make sure you get that investigation back off that cow.’
‘ I will,’ said FB.
‘ And do her. Do her well. If you can, get her thrown out of the job. Do it for me.’
‘ I’ll do it, even if it takes for ever.’
‘ Good man.’
Crosby’s head dropped back onto the pillow. His eyes closed.
FB actually felt a tear form and roll down his cheek. ‘I’ll get her if it’s the last thing I do,’ he said softly.
The machine which monitored Crosby’s heart-rate changed its tone to one continuous note. It took a moment to register with FB — by which time two nurses had rushed into the room and an alarm bell was sounding somewhere. More medical staff arrived within seconds, crowding round the patient, pushing FB out of the way.
He retreated to the door, standing by Mrs Crosby and Dave August.
Five minutes later it was over.
Crosby was dead.
FB stormed down the corridor muttering, ‘That bitch is history.’
Karen sat alone in her borrowed office at Preston police station. She did not want to see anyone. She wanted to sit by herself for as long as possible as the day darkened to try and comprehend the enormity of what had happened.
Three policemen dead. Another injured. Shots fired. A member of the public dead too — that being Pepe Paglia whose body the firearms team had found on entering the hotel. He’d been shot through the head. And to cap it all the person responsible had got away. Been allowed to escape.
Basically the biggest single fuck-up in the history of Lancashire Constabulary. And it was all her fault.
Karen rubbed her face with her hands.
And for a classic post-script, Jack Crosby had died. Apparently she was to blame for that too.
How long was it since she had had any sleep? Many hours. Yet she doubted whether she could sleep now even if she had the opportunity. Her dazed mind raced around and around like an Indy car on an oval track.
There was a soft knock on the door. Donaldson crept quietly into the room. Bloodstains had dried on his clothing. He hadn’t had a chance to change yet.
‘ OK?’ he enquired.
‘ No, not really,’ she admitted truthfully. She was on the verge of tears, struggled to keep them back.
‘ I have a little more bad news, I’m afraid.’
She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Go on.’ She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
‘ I’ve just spoken to Joe Kovaks; he tells me that the guy who gave us the information has been killed. Stabbed to death in his hospital bed at the prison. Even had his tongue cut out.’
‘ Oh God,’ she uttered. She stood up shakily and crossed to the window which overlooked the town. In the distance the River Ribble snaked away towards the sea. She shook her head in disbelief.
She couldn’t stop it. She began to cry with gut-wrenching sobs that racked her body, made her shoulders judder.
Donaldson crossed to her and placed an arm around her. She turned instinctively into him and buried her face in his blood-stained shirt. It was a great effort to prevent himself from crying. Ever since McClure had died, he’d shut his mind to it so that he could get on with what had to be done. Now that time was over. Family had been told. Statements had been made.
He stroked Karen’s hair. It felt coarse and grubby. Stale.
She tilted her head and looked up. Tears flooded her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. Make-up ran, lipstick smeared. She would have been the first to admit she looked a mess.
‘ I’m sorry, Karl,’ she said.
The door opened before she could finish.
FB and a sidekick strutted businesslike into the room.
‘ Oh, this is fuckin’ great,’ he shouted. ‘Straight back to your old tricks and the bodies are still warm. I should’ve known. You’re an uncaring, unfeeling slag. Yes, a fuckin’ slag and you’ll never be any different. ‘
Karen and Donaldson had stepped a pace apart from each other.
They were speechless.
‘ Right — collect your things. You’re off this investigation as of now and you’re also suspended from duty pending a full enquiry.’
‘ Suspended?’ she said in disbelief. ‘On what grounds?’
‘ Neglect of duty, disobeying a lawful order, bringing the force into disrepute… you name it, lady, it’s there. Unfortunately you’ll be on full pay. May I have your warrant card, please? As of now you’re banned from entering any police station, other than as a member of the public. You must go home and remain there until D and C contact you.’ FB was in full flow. ‘Do you know how many lives you’ve destroyed by this thoughtless operation? And do you care? I’ll bet not.’
Karen couldn’t answer.
‘ Let up, will you, pal?’ Donaldson cut in.
‘ You shut it, Yank,’ snarled FB, pointing. ‘You’re not involved in this.’
‘ Not involved?’ Donaldson stepped forward and grabbed FB’s lapels, heaved him onto his toes and whacked him back against the wall. They stood nose to nose. ‘Not involved, you asshole? My friend died in my arms today, you little shit. Not involved? I oughtta punch you into next week.’
His big clenched fist drew back. FB braced himself, wondering what time-travel would feel like.
Karen caught the fist before it connected. ‘Karl, Karl. There’s no need for that. It won’t do anyone any good… and please, let me fight my own battles.’
‘ But it’d make me feel so damned good,’ he said, reluctantly dropping the sweating FB.
Numbly, Karen rummaged through her handbag until she found her warrant card. She placed it photo-up on
